


Scars

by Heart_Seoul_Soshi



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_Seoul_Soshi/pseuds/Heart_Seoul_Soshi
Summary: A short drabble in which Evie accidentally sees Mal in a new light





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> from an anonymous request on tumblr

_“Bring home a prince!”_

Her mother had called it out at the last second before the limousine door shut, and Evie had taken it to heart, just like she had her whole life.  
  
A rich prince, a magnificent castle, a royal wedding, things utterly nonexistent on The Isle that flitted through Evie’s head like fairies on her quiet, lonely ride to Auradon.  This was her moment, the start of her whole life, being chosen to attend Auradon Prep.  An entire campus crawling with perfect princes, and Evie poised and trained to grab any one she wanted.  She’d meet a royal, with his stunning eyes, suave charm, and a larger-than-life aura, and the rest would be happily ever after.  That’s the way mother had always explained it to her.  She was simply delighted when the limo drew to a stop in front of the school and an honest-to-goodness prince was the first thing to greet her…with fine eyes, somewhat goofy charm, and, well, a rather unimpressive aura.  Not the best or most promising start, but it was  _Auradon_.  Auradon wore royalty like Evie wore hand-sewn couture, she’d have plenty of opportunities here.  
  
So imagine her surprise when she swung open the door to her dorm room and found stunning eyes, suave charm, and a larger-than-life aura belonging to the intense-looking girl kicked back on the bed with a book and a scowl.  
  
Imagine her even greater surprise when over a week, two weeks, a month, two months, the snarky girl’s cold exterior melted away to reveal a girl with a heart of gold who grew to care about Evie more than either of them thought was ever possible.  Evie had spent all her life waiting to hold the large, strong hand of a heavenly prince, but found even more contentment in holding the small, soft hand of Mal.  Not that Evie could speak from experience, but everything with Mal seemed to be so much better than it would ever be with a lordly prince.  Her smile, her laugh, the way she didn’t even hesitate to tear into resident mean girl Audrey when she came around to make cracks at the villain kids.  Evie and Mal had both come from The Isle but never knew each other, yet still they shared the bond of growing up in that dark, squalid place.  
  
Evie never really thought to count her blessings that her life on The Isle was fairly okay compared to most other islanders.  Sure, the food sucked, there was no wi-fi, her castle was crumbling, and the walls had run out of room for all her mirrors, but still, it wasn’t like she found herself  _tragically_  suffering.  So there was definitely a strange, surreal moment of cascading shock when she came into the dorm after an evening of studying in the library and caught Mal in the middle of changing into her pajamas.  Not shock at seeing her girlfriend in nothing but pajama pants and a bra for the first time ever, no.  Shock at the way Mal quickly lunged for her soft long-sleeved shirt on the bed and yanked it on, but not quickly enough to keep Evie from catching a glimpse of the scars littering Mal’s torso and arms like the scratches and grooves littering the older desks in the library.  
  
Clearly flustered, an emotion Evie didn’t even know the girl was capable of, Mal awkwardly tugged at the bottom of her shirt and the cuffs of her sleeves, probably under the pretense of straightening out her attire but actually giving the impression that she’d make the shirt cover up her entire body from head to toe if she could.  And that’s when it hit Evie.  How Mal was always in her purple jacket, always sleeping in long-sleeved shirts, always changing in the bathroom with the door locked tight and always pulling unconsciously at the hems of her clothes.  
  
“Evie, sorry, I should’ve gone in the bathroom,” Mal nervously apologized like she had done something wrong.  
  
Evie didn’t say anything, which only made Mal more uneasy, more uncomfortably awkward.  
  
“…Sorry,” Mal said again, busying her hands with turning down the covers.  
  
She kept her eyes down and her concentration so intently focused on stopping her hands from beginning to shake, both of which kept her from realizing that Evie had crossed the room to stand right beside her.  Evie was frowning, confused, like she couldn’t quite comprehend what she had just seen.  
  
“M…” she said quietly.  
  
Mal stopped messing with the covers, her eyes wide and innocent as Evie’s voice drew them to her.  
  
“…M, can I—”  
  
Evie hadn’t made a single move, but still Mal flinched like she’d been jolted with an electric shock and took a massive step back from Evie, wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
“…Mal, please,” Evie whispered.  
  
Mal was taken aback by the sudden desperation in her voice, the way it so suddenly sounded on the verge of tears.  This was Evie,  _her_  Evie.  The Evie she could never stop herself from opening up to, not even now with some of her deepest and darkest shame.  With a shaky breath, Mal lowered her arms, tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling, at anywhere but Evie.  
  
Evie was slow and careful in her movements, like Mal was a small animal who would run at the slightest provocation.  She took the soft material of Mal’s shirt in between her fingertips and lifted it up, enough to get a good look at her stomach but not enough to see past her bra.  Mal shook, Evie could both feel and see it. Evie studied the scars with a morbid fascination, many white, some pink, some just on the surface, some gouged deep.  She looked up at Mal with a silent question shining in her eyes, but Mal kept her gaze on the ceiling.  
  
“…Sometimes I…wasn’t always as bad as mom wanted me to be.  Sometimes I’d fall short. Sometimes she’d…she’d show me what it was like to be truly evil.”  
  
Here was another thing Evie never expected Mal to be capable of—tears.  They weren’t there in her eyes, not a trace of them there at all, but they were hidden in the crack of her voice, the thickness of her words.  
  
Evie never really thought to count her blessings that her life on The Isle was fairly okay compared to most other islanders.    
  
She had no words.  Mal had no words.  They both just stared at their respective spots of scars and ceiling, Mal wishing this moment could just be done and over with and Evie wishing she could find some dang words already.  But then she realized Mal didn’t need it, she didn’t need to hear words.  She had other senses, and those would do her more good then any string of words ever could. Evie let one hand go from lifting Mal’s shirt and traced her fingertips over a particularly long scar situated just below Mal’s ribs.  Mal shivered, but Evie couldn’t tell from what.  
  
“…E, are you done?” Mal asked, almost pleading.  
  
But she wasn’t.  Over each and every scar she could see she passed her touch, leaving Mal in one continuing series of shivers.  
  
“Evie, what are you—”  
  
Evie kissed her, one arm holding her by the bare skin of her waist.  Finally Mal tore her gaze away from the ceiling, meeting Evie’s eyes as their lips parted.  
  
“…You weren’t supposed to see this,” Mal whispered.  
  
“You didn’t want anyone to see this,” Evie quietly said.  
  
Mal stepped away from Evie’s hold, letting her shirt fall.  
  
“…I think you’re beautiful, M,” Evie smiled.  
  
Mal wrapped her arms around herself again, turning away.  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“Yes I do!”  
  
“How could you??”  
  
Evie took both of Mal’s hands, clasping them tightly.  
  
“Because your scars are a part of you.  In all ways.  They make you who you are, and who you are is someone beautiful,” she explained.  
  
“No,  _you’re_  someone beautiful, I’m just—”  
  
Evie curiously pulled the collar of Mal’s shirt aside and found a mark there too, an angry one digging across her clavicle.  She leaned in, brushing her lips along the length of Mal’s collarbone before closing her eyes and kissing the scar.  
  
Mal’s hand moved of its own accord, weaving into blue hair and holding Evie there against her for just a little bit longer.  When Evie pulled away, she slipped a hand under Mal’s shirt and let her palm just rest there against the flat of her stomach.  
  
“My mother always told me I’d recognize the princes by their charm, their smiles…their castles,” Evie giggled.  "But the books told me something else, that I’d recognize them by their trials and adventures.  They’d cross lands, climb mountains, save the princess—"  
  
“Fight the dragon,” Mal added.  
  
“Yeah, fight the dragon too.  The books told me I’d recognize the princes by their hardships…by their  _scars_.”  
  
Mal’s eyes widened just the slightest.  
  
“I think you may be my prince, Mal.  The one I’ve waited all this time to find.  And you’re absolutely perfect…don’t be afraid, M. Don’t be ashamed.  Be proud of who you are, scars and all.  You wouldn’t be you without them.  And I happen to like you very much exactly as you are.”  
  
The first tear came from out of nowhere and rolled down Mal’s cheek as she slowly draped her arms around Evie’s shoulders and buried her face in the crook of her neck, sniffing slightly.  
  
“…Thank you, Evie,” her voice cracked again.  
  
Evie didn’t need thanks, she just hugged her tight.  She’d been told to bring home a prince, but it was clear to her even now that the prince would end up  _becoming_  her home.  And also end up being a princess.  Life was funny that way, it seemed.  Life was beautiful.  
  
Mal was beautiful.  
  
And Evie wasn’t about to let her forget it.


End file.
